Who's Afraid?
by Becoming-Obsessed
Summary: Mother always told me don't talk to strangers, get water & come straight home. Four years after the destruction of the Wizarding World, a beast lurks in the night & haunts those who claim shelter in the new village of Little Whinging. Red Riding Hood. H/D
1. Red as Bloodied Snow

_**So, this was originally for CreatureFest 2011, and it... Never got completed. Nor turned in... So, here it is now, in chapter form, and it will hopefully be completed while me and Syl try to battle our crazy schedules and finish up Aresto Momentum, the sequel to the fic on **_**my**_** account, Wingardium Leviosa.**_

_**o0o0o**_

**Pairing:** Draco/Harry. Drarry.

**Prompt #: **28.

**Rating: **M/NC 17.

**Word Count:** N/A at the moment. (N/A ATM.)

**Summary: **Mother always told me... Don't talk to strangers, get water and come straight home. I never listened. Almost four years after the destruction of the Wizarding World, a beast lurks in the night, and haunts those who claim shelter in the new, secluded village of Little Whinging. But, their peaceful life is about to be shattered. Murders are escalating, hearts are being torn, and sacred bonds are beginning to be formed between two unlikely people. Themed after Red Riding Hood, 2011 release.

**Warning(s): **Gay relationships, Male/Male sex, murder, blood, maybe even a little gore. (Not much.) _Not _Epilogue compliant! Dumbledore has not died, neither has Regulus Black. Character Deaths.

**Beta: **...Myself? It was going to be Syl, but... Yeah. XD

Disclaimer:** This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.**

_o0o_

_Prompt._

**Film:** Red Riding Hood (recent release)

**Creature: **Werewolf.

**Pairing:** Harry/Draco.

**Era:** Post-Hogwarts.

**Additions:** Wormtail's silver hand, Deluminator, a staff.

**Scenario:** I'd like to see Draco in the role of Valerie with Harry being the one he loves (Peter).

**Squicks: **Major character death (Harry or Draco), non-con, infidelity.

**Maximum Rating: **Up to NC17.

_o0o_

_Characters:_

_**Valerie: **_Draco Malfoy.

_**Peter: **_Harry Potter.

_**Henry: **_Blaise Zabini.

_**Cesaire, Valerie's father: **_Lucius Malfoy.

_**Lucy, Valerie's sister: **_Pansy Parkison._(She is like a sister in this story.)_

_**Suzette, Valerie's mum: **_Narcissa Malfoy.

_**Adrien Lazar, Henry's father: **_Regulus Arcturus Black. _(He did not die yet.)_

_**Madam Lazar, Henry's mother: **_Mrs. Zabini.

_**Grandmother, Valerie's: **_Andromeda Tonks.

_**Solomon: **_Dumbledore._ (In this story he has not died yet.)_

_**Father Auguste, Daggerhorn's Priest: **_Percy Weasley.

_**Roxanne, local... whore: **_Ginny Weasley.

_**The Reeve, Grey Wolf slayer: **_Ron Weasley.

_**Captain, the leader for Solomon: **_Kingsley Shacklebolt.

_**Prudence, Valerie's best friend: **_Crabbe.

_**Claude, Prudence's brother:**_ Goyle.

_o0o_

**Just a note: **Anything **in **_italics_** is a flashback**, obviously except those few occasional words splattered through sentences.

During the flashbacks, there might be **sentences that are **_**not**_** in italics**_**,**_** that means that they are Draco's thoughts from the present, not the past.**

Sorry if it's confusing. I normally don't write First Person. Tried something different without realizing it till I was halfway done with the beginning. XD

_o0o_

_The only life I want.. is with you._

Green... that is the only colour you seem to see as you travel farther and farther away from London, farther and farther away from civilization. Red, is the colour that is splayed across freshly fallen snow... the colour of spilt blood.. and the softest fabric.

After the war, the Wizarding World fell to ruins. Unable to shake the fear, the bone-chilling thought, that the Dark Lord would soon rise to power again and wipe away what was left of their home... it left London, and the rest of the Wizarding populace destroyed. Communities spilt, whole families disappeared over night, and most fled to the Muggle world, forgoing magic completely in fear of being hunted and slaughtered.

Beasts prowled the nights now, in Wizarding London- Hogwarts lay in shambles, decimated and rumored to be haunted by the very ghosts that once traveled its hallowed halls. Hogsmeade wasn't so much a place to spend the day with friends, as a hovel- crumbled and corrupt- to haggle and steal for supplies to protect yourselves from the beasts- the horrifying monsters that lurked in the shadows, and in the alleys so many children once played, beasts that ruled the night and haunted dreams, haunted nightmares.

Diagon Alley, once a place of pure magic, a home to so many, was now more in a sorry state; filled to the brink with wizards and witches seeking safe shelter from the moon, from the creatures that befell the terrible nights wind.

Little Whinging... Yes, I know you've heard of it. This is where our story takes place. A little town on the edge of Wizarding London, forgotten and reeking with decimation, befallen after the war. Overgrown with trees, it became a little village for the wizards and witches that once called it home. It is now a nightmare. A beast lurks behind those shrouded trees, those fallen branches, eyes watching... and waiting... waiting for those stupid and fool-hearty enough to be out on a 'wolf-night.'

For those in the war that had been cold, they became a little more open, a little more prone to showing their faces in the light of day, signs of war edging across their aristocratic faces. What side you were on didn't matter so much anymore... But, what side of the door you were on in the middle of a night when the beast came lurking, did.

But, for those that had been open in the war, harried and light of heart, they became a little more cold- brittle and cruel, fool-hearty to the fact that a monster hunted their children and let blood splatter their worn-wood doors. They were afraid, most terrifyingly so, and it made them aggressive- afraid of the beast that comes in the night- snatching them in their sleep, or Merlin forbid, their children. They were aggressive with their fear, channeling it to try and make themselves stronger, less weak of heart, at the sound of the bells that rang when another one of them was killed.

I remember when Little Whinging was once made as a village; created in haste, in quiet and secret but none-the-less in broad daylight, my mother had spoken to me, telling me to forget our past, to move on, to stay safe...

_"Don't talk to strangers. Go get water, and come straight home."_

We lived as peasants now. Old pure-blood ties and Muggle-born traitors lived as one in this village, this hovel. But it didn't mean that we were any less different than our neighbor. The war had torn us all, created bonds that ones didn't know they had in another and made enemies of old friends that thought they could rely on. I remember the first time I met him, after the war was done and everything had settled, for the most part anyhow. He was exhausted, the war had done him no justice; but it didn't mean that Harry Potter hadn't aged gracefully. At twenty-two, a simple three and a half years after the downfall of the war, Harry Potter was thriving. He led the village of Little Whinging with a firm, solid hand, one that went unmarried for the first year the village was upheld. A strong face and a mass of disheveled hair, the colour of the dirt their feet walked every morning, Harry Potter was as graceful as he was unheard of. After a year, the little village fell, burning to the ground with unholy abandon; it was haunted. Cursed by a beast that set out only once every fortnight, hoarding the best livestock Little Whinging had to offer, laid out like a feast, the village remained in ruins, too afraid to come out of their homes, their shelters. Harry Potter didn't rise to power again. It was disgusting to see, but it was our lives now none the less.

_We live on the edge of a dark forest, few knew our village by name. But, many had heard of the terrible things that happened there._

I remember when we first created the new, quieter village, and my parents had been forgiven of their crimes... My mother, when telling me to go get water, when telling me to not talk to strangers... I don't think she intended for me to run into Harry Potter himself, head first, and quite literally at that.

_I tried to be a good boy.. I really did._

_"Ow!"_

_ "O-Oh! I am so sor- _Malfoy?_" A voice gasped in disbelief, shock wavering in the tone as if something, some form of a legend, was seen but it had not processed with the brain just yet. Yes, yes I suppose you could call the bright 'Malfoy blonde hair' a legend. ...Me and my family mostly stayed indoors, I suppose. No matter how forgiving the village of Little Whinging could be, we still carried fears of being mistreated, still carried fears of being burned, or beaten... those tattoos still itched._

_"Watch where you're goin-" I paused, my heart stopping in my throat. "Potter?" I rubbed my head where his bucket collided with my skull, grabbing the handle of mine and standing up, not bothering to dust the dirt off my knees. It's not like these pants were tailored anymore, not since after the war... not since after the beasts had decided to come out of hiding... decided to slaughter and _murder_ like the haunted creatures that they were._

_"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"_

_ "See me. Yes, it's ok, Potter. Just jam your bucket into my skull like the common folk we are, all brute force and living like common _filth._" Even at that point, after only living in Little Whinging for the better part of a year, did I know that no one, not even myself cared that we had to hunt for food, that we had to hide at night and act like nothing more than a common house-rat._

Now, I can tell you from past experience that I know what a common House-Elf feels; minus the fact that they enjoyed this type of treatment. But, I can say that I do, for a fact, enjoy _living_.

_"...I forgot how much of a prat you were, Malfoy. Do you mind, ya' know, _moving_? So I can get some water?" It was then that I noticed the blood that stained Potter's hands and his grimy trouser legs, sticking out against the worn and faded black pants that he wore, pressing the fabric against once Quidditch-toned legs. _

Now, if my brain reminds me correctly, Potter, as well as the Weasley spawn were all wood-choppers for the village. Oh joyous me, I didn't work. Mother didn't see it fit that someone of such.. _pure-blooded_ grace should have to work. I honestly didn't care at this point. As long as I survived another night and wasn't cast out to the wolves was I perfectly content to sit at home as nothing better than a pretty little maiden.. a pretty little maiden my _arse._

_ I grumbled something, standing and turning before a thought clicked in my head, all intent to head back into the village, lugging my bucket of water, left my head. "Potter," I spoke calmly, heart pounding. "Where did you... Where did you get that blood?... On your trousers?" I clarified._

_I heard him pause, the branches and leaves crackling quietly beneath his knees. "I..." his hands sloshed around in the water. "...Why should I tell _you_, Malfoy?"_

_ I obviously deserved the disdain in his voice._

_ "Because I want to know, Potter. Is that too much to ask for now a-days? A little bit of knowledge? A smidgen of insight?"_

_ "Geesh, fine." He stood, his hands dusting against his pants. _(Which, in my mind, with them being soaked in blood, defeated the purpose of _washing_ them in the first place.)

_ "I killed a rabbit, if your greedy little mind wants to know."_

_ I turned sharply. To kill a rabbit these days, to kill something so white, so _pure_ was almost a crime against whatever God it was that us Wizard's believed in anymore. Certainly no one had the Ministry to kiss arse for anymore, I was sure of that._

_ "Oh come off it, Malfoy. Wipe that sodding look from your face, I know you don't honestly care."_

_ A glare was on my face almost instantly, turning back around and marching away with a defiant huff, branches crackling against my thin, fur-lined boots._

_ "Malfoy-" Harry spoke up after a moment, a hand raised with a furrow of confusion evident on his brow._

"_I'm leaving, Potter. Just give me a moment," I grumbled, lifting a leg to step over a annoying log that lay strewn on the ground,my bucket clenched tightly, painfully in my palm. I jerked back as my foot refused to move._

_ "-Your foot is stuck..."_

_ "I gathered that Potter!" Another jerk, a painful pull at the knee had me falling towards the ground, hands coming out to dig against the floor to save me from an imminent face plant into the dirt. _Fuck,_ that hurt._

_ "Malfoy! Holy shite are you ok?" Feet crunched quickly against the dying leaves of the changing seasons, and the branches and twigs from the wood cutters harvests. A hand clasped around my arm, wide palm and long fingers, gently turning my body over to face the tops of the looming trees above, like an impervious barrier from the dark of a haunted night._

_ I felt a hiss slip past my lips before I realized what was happening. Potter had grabbed my arms, turning my body, my wrists aching violently at the jostling as I fell back-first against the forest floor._

"_Fuck, Potter!" I groaned in distress, sharp jolts of pain aching through my wrists, shooting from the tips of my fingers and through my arm._

"_Sorry! Sorry!" Brown hair, and tantalizing green eyes came into my view, a glance drifting over my face. It would shock me, thinking back, that I recognized the worry in his face, I just didn't believe it. _

"_Just rest for a minute, ok? Fuck Malfoy..." He glanced down at my body, presumably taking a gander at my wrists._

_Glancing at the body that shadowed the warm afternoon sun from my face, I grumbled something unintelligible about being "Fine, unbreakable." When Harry conti- When did he become Harry?_

_When _Potter_ continued to throw questions in my face and expect some damn answers before I could even answer them, my control snapped. "Potter! Bloody fucking bugger- I'm _fine_!"_

"_Malfoy! You look like you can't even bend your wrists-" Potter began leaning down, more than likely intent to pick me up, or grab my wrists to examine them- My wrists-_

"_Don't __**touch**__ me!"_

_I jerked back instantly, heart rapidly pounding in my chest, fear crawling up my veins like an infestation, manifesting in my spine, sending bile up my throat and past night terrors rapidly appearing in and out of my head with violent abandon._

_ Harry froze, emerald eyes wide with fear, with confusion, his mask falling and rebuilding itself quickly. "M...Malfoy?" He certainly didn't expect me to be so unhinged by a little touch, did he?_

_ Curling tighter in on myself, arms tucked in against my head, taking several deep breaths, air filling my lungs, and then crushing itself out of my chest, I tried to will myself to get my knees to stop shaking, will myself to stop acting like such a bloody fool._

_ "Malfoy? Hey... It's ok, shh, come on now..." A hand slowly rested against my wrist again, the touch cautious and sure, protective. "I'm.. I'm sorry if you didn't like me touching you. I promise not to do it again if you don't want me to." I let his wrist remain there._

_ He paused again. "Malfoy? Do you... Uh... You want me to leave? Give you some space?" Potter, for once, sounding confused, unsure how to handle the fact that someone didn't want a touch, a simple hand shake... A brush of fingertips... Any sort of compassion was craved for now a days._

_ "N-No..." I cleared my throat, taking in a few more shuddering breaths, ignoring the annoying_ _prickling behind my eyes. "I'm _ fine._"_

_ "Ok." He sounded patient, setting my twisting heart at ease._

_ Bloody Merlin- Fucking _ hell. _Potter was calming me down. Since when? What twisted universe did I wake up to today? Did I finally go around the bend? Get thrown to the wolves?_

_ A few moments passed, my eyes slipping closed to help with a few deep breaths. You can't see it, it can't affect you. ...That thought one day would lead me to my downfall._

_ "Draco?" A voice spoke up calmly after a few, tense minutes, Harry's thumb gently drifting over my wrist, soothing my racing heart._

Shite.

_ "What, Potter?" My legs untucked from around my body, my knees groaning in protest, my arms uncurled from around my head and I pushed myself up into a sitting position, twigs and branches digging into my skin, Harry's hand slipping away from my wrist. I chose to ignore the fact that my wrist felt awkwardly cold afterward._

_ "Nothing." I chanced a glance up. He looked... Empty. Expressionless. A simple brown eyebrow raised in question. "You all better?"_

_ I snorted, a sneer curling against my lips. "All better? I'm not some charity case that you can just suddenly make all their problems go away, Potter."_

_ "I didn't mean-"_

_ "But _yes_, for your information, I am fine Potter. Thank you for your few moments of charitable care." Rolling my silver-hued eyes, I got up from the ground with a sigh, dusting off my pants, ignoring the stinging, the twitching itch against my arm. No, you will _not_ start now you stupid..._

_ "Would you go hunting with me?"_

_ ..."What?"_

_ There was a moments pause, as if my question through him off edge._

_ "Would... You like to go hunting with me?" Potter repeated again, a hand clenching at his side, looking as if he would love to reach up and run it through his shaggy, unkempt brown hair, or fiddled with those dreadful glasses._

_ I repeated myself again. "_What?_"_

_ The ex-Gryffindor looked irritated. "I'm not going to repeat myself again, Malfoy. Just answer the damn question." Harry- Potter, what the fuck? _Potter_ moved his weight from foot to foot, impatience, awkwardness speaking volumes in the shifting of his weight._

_ "_You_ want to go hunting," I pointed an accusing, pale finger at him. "With me?"_

_ "Brilliant conclusions there, Draco." Potter mumbled, a chuckle escaping his lips as he gazed at me with exasperation evident in his dark green eyes, dirt smudges making the bright green irises look even more captivating then- Bloody fuck._

_ "Oh shut it Potter."_

_ "Make me-"_

_ "Oh I will you brash twit!"_

_ "_Fine!_" I shouted with a wave of my hand, the pale appendage coming to rub at my throbbing temple. "Fuck! Fine Potter, you win!"_

_"...Well, that required little effort."_

_ "Don't get used to it." I snorted in amusement as the brunette held out a hand towards me, my _

_grip meeting his, sure and strong as he gave a cursory nod of his head. "See you tonight, Malfoy."_

_ "...Tonight? You never mentioned-"_

_ Potter's hand slipped from mine, his shit-eating grin wide on his face, his emerald eyes bright, hair disheveled- He was gone, back to being Little Whinging's famous woodcutter before I could bat a 'pretty blonde eyelash.'_

_ What the fuck just happened?_

-8-8-

After all that, it wasn't shocking that me and Harry- Potter became close allies. Not friends, I suppose, but allies. He took me away from the ever-watching eyes of the haunted witches and wizards, and I treated him like a human, like Harry. We would meet every afternoon, in secret, near a little river a ways walk from the section of the forest that Harry and his band of Weasleys (George, Bill and Ronald if I recalled. The other was the annoying priest of our little village and I think one of the red-headed bunch remained in Romania and another died as well. ...I refuse to admit that I did feel bad for them. I knew what it was like to lose family.) were busy tearing down and cutting up.

I'd bring some lunch that I had made (Mother tried cooking once... Let us just say, she was best for hosting parties, none of which would ever happen in this village.) and Harry would bring his rations he was able to grab from the Weasley bunch and we'd sit in companionable silence and just... Eat. We never really talked that much during the day for some reason, the mood that fell over our shoulders was just one of quiet contentment and passing chatter about the newest happening in the village, or how Harry's day was going with the new tree he was chopping at.

We were able to pass and hour or two in that silence, that calmness. Nothing existed when it was just us. Nothing troubling, no nightmares, no creatures lurking in the night with glowing gold, or red eyes and blood thirsty teeth, no failed war looming over our heads, or our ratty life-styles. Just... Well, just us. Just Draco and Harry, and I couldn't help but find some form of peace in that thought. I clung to it like a new loaf of bread. I clung to that thought that here, covered by the shelter of quietly rustling trees and the gentle chirping of birds, that our pasts didn't matter. It didn't matter that I had ended up the... Well, the right side of the war, and Potter had lost the war he was supposedly fighting for since before he could walk... It didn't matter that he wasn't seen as the Golden Boy after Little Whinging burned to the ground that changing night... The night that the creature appeared in Little Whinging. And, it didn't matter that... Well... It didn't matter. Our pasts didn't matter so much as the future did, so much as surviving in troubled and deadly times. And, I suppose, that that was how my ever unconventional relationship with Harry Potter, the ex-Gryffindor Golden Boy started.

_**-8-8-**_

_**So what'dya think?**_

_**Let me know! **_

_**It's been so long since I went and revisited this story and I'm excited to hear what ya'll think! This is my side project between a few stories and a LOT of costumes to finish in the next two to three months! Eek! Excited.**_

_**-Sincerely, your ever loyal **_**Abraxas.**


	2. Daggerhorn

Chp. 2.

Who's Afraid?

_Daggerhorn._

"Draco! Hey Draco!"

"Potter! Shh! Keep your bloody buggering voice down!"

His laughter grated against my ears as Harry's body came into my view, slowly slinking around a looming evergreen, his worn leather satchel chucked over a deliciously tanned shoulder. Bloody fuck, where was his shirt?

"Sorry Malfoy, lost track of time-"

"Yes, of course you did Potter, when do you not?" I leaned back against the log that sat against the rushing riverbank, the sound of sloshing water calming my agitated nerves. And, _obviously _I did not have any of those nerves from seeing the Gryffindor _Golden Boy_ shirtless.

Harry rolled his bright emerald eyes, black, leather boots jump over a fwt stray logs and branches as he practically danced his way over to me, sweat against sun-kissed muscles gleaming in the stray rays of sun that leaked through the canopy of branches over head.

"What crawled up your arse and died Malfoy?" Harry plopped down gracelessly beside me, his worn and fading working pants stretched against toned thighs. The brunette grabbed his satchel and slung it back around over his shoulder, dropping the worn brown leather near my feet, only a few inches from the other, warm and sweaty, body beside me. "I have some meat strips and a half a loaf of few-day-old bread."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes and glancing down at the satchel, flipping the lid of it open with a small rustle and shoved my hand inside. Pulling out the meat, wrapped in stretched animal skins and the loaf of bread, I retorted to Harry's joking quietly. "Obviously, nothing is going to die up _there_ anytime soon, I assure you, I only let the cleanest things up there."

Potter's choked gasps had laughter bubbling in my chest. "What Potter? Can't handle what you bring to the proverbial table anymore?" I tore off a piece of bread, plopping it in my mouth and chewing with a contented hum, eyes falling closed as I shifted in the dew-wet grass.

"I didn't- I- _Malfoy!_"

"What?" I played along teasingly, Potter spluttering indignantly beside me. Hah, see where those deliciously tempting muscles and heart-stopping green eyes get yo...u. _Fuck._

"You know I-I didn't mean anything like that." I leaned back against the log behind me, eyes shifting closed, bright reds and yellows dancing behind my closed lids.

"Didn't mean anything like _what_, Harry dear?" I chuckled, tearing off another piece of bread.

Grass crunched beside me, the colours behind my lids vanishing as a figure loomed above me. Harry sounded... almost afraid, confused maybe? Weary of the sneaky little Slytherin?

"Malfoy... Draco... I... What?"

My eyes slid open, heart stopping at the closeness of Harry's face to mine. What the... What had gotten into him? It was just playful banter over lunch, wasn't it? What was with that soul-searching expression buried behind eyes of confused jade?...That was a little too poetic for my tastes. I must have been outside in the sun for too long. Mother always said it never did me any good.

"Hey, what's got your pants in a knot there, Potter?" Harry's face searched mine, for something, anything to answering the sudden questions that seemed to plague his brain. What had I said that suddenly confused the Golden Boy?

"What..." he licked his lips, my eyes instantly tracking the subtle movement. "What did you mean by that? Choosing..." My heart jumped, what the _fuck_ was going on? "Choosing what um..."

"Went up my arse?" I supplied calmly. What did he... Did he mean...

"Y-Yeah- I mean... Do you um..." Harry shuffled back, as if the thought scared him enough, as if it was real enough that he could run from it at a moments notice, a words utterance.

"Do I like it up the arse, Potter? Is that what your asking?"

So much had changed within two years, I was still shocked to just sit back and _remember._ After our little chance meeting at the river, me and Harry had met everyday for lunch, and then every night to go hunting. The first few months were awkward, me bailing (I liked the term "not feeling particularly well.") on him on more than one occasion due to the _rational_ fear of the creature that lurked in our forest, just behind our wooden gate. He taught me the correct way to hold a dagger, and track for pray (You had to get low to the ground and be quiet, two things that I were not particularly fond of) and how to skin a rabbit, or an elk when you killed it with a certain angle of your dagger. It was all actually, truly interesting, and I taught him a lot in return. During our nights, when we would sit in front of a fire and eat our kill, we would talk; just quiet questions about our past, our ideals, Hufflepuff-like stuff like that. Whatever Harry asked, I told. There was nothing to hide under the blank canvas of night between us.

"-alfoy? Draco?"

I shook myself out of my reverie. "So, do you?" I coughed into my closed fist as I pulled myself up off the prickly log.

"I... I..."

I sat back, confused. What the blood fuck was going on?

"Potter, will you just answer the damn question? What's with the sudden interest in a bloody passing comment?" I lifted my arms and crossed them over my chest, the cotton fabric of my shirt stretching against my shoulders.

"Malfoy... Look..." Potter fell back against his haunches, the fabric of his pants straining against his muscles as well. "I just... Wasn't prepared..." He threw a hand through his tangled hair, an audible swallow causing the Adam's Apple of his throat to bob temptingly. If I could just run my tongue- What the bloody fuck! _No!_ Malfoy! No!

"I wasn't prepared for a comment like that. I apologize." Harry glanced down and fumbled with the cording ties to his pants. Merlin.

"It's ok, Potter. You didn't know that I found any human with something swinging between their legs attractive." I gave a blatant shrug as if this conversation was an everyday occurrence. "It happens."

That muttered sentence had Potter lurching forward with a blush, his hands coming up to cradle his hands, his tanned, nimble fingers ran through... Bloody. Fucking. Hell Malfoy, you need to go drown in a lake.

"-need to stop with those comments Malfoy!"

"Sorry-"

Movement at the corner of my gaze stopped my heart, my head jerking painfully to the side as my eyes dried to track out the figure lurking in the distance. "H-Harry- Potter!" I whispered frantically, heart shooting up to clench in my throat. My hand came up to grasp at the knee a foot away, hand shaking as a flash of brown darted behind a tree. "P-Potter!" My shoulder's shook, my heart stopping in my throat. What was the wolf doing out during the day? How did it- We were outside of the boundaries. Shit.

Harry worked outside of the secure wooden gate of the village, and we always met about a third of a mile outside of that. Merlin's left arse cheek. We were too far to run. The village rules were always to run. Wait. Assess. Bloody fucking run.

Potter followed my gaze, his movements seem to jerk to a halt as a wolf head slowly lurked its way out from behind the trunk of a tree, not to far from across the slowly sloshing river. Russet fur and haunted gold eyes, canines poked from its lower lips, the wolf's movements slow, calculated as it calmly approached the bank of the river, the only thing separating me and Harry from the rather large animal. The thing had to be the size of a damn _bear!_ If I were to stand next to it, its head would easily come up to my chest, its lower, muscled haunches resting against my hips. What was the wolf doing here? In the middle of broad daylight? How had other village workers not seen it? How had an alarm not sou-

_Dong. Dong. Dong-!_

A hand secured itself warmly around my wrist, the familiar grasp, warm and calloused, jerked me out of my thoughts. "Mafoy, Draco. On three. We run. I don't care if this is just a stupid Grey Wolf-" He was cut off by another dong of the warning bell. Seven _dongs._ Seven chances to get the fucking hell out of wherever you were and beat ground until you made it safely back behind the towering village walls.

"Wands?" My voice didn't shake, to my misplaced relief, as my hand slid down to grasp firmly around Harry's.

"Back belt holster. Leave the satchel. Run on three. Don't stop. No chances."

The wolf took a running leap over the edge of the riverbank, its back paws crashing loudly into the waves, shattering the silence with a deathly growl.

"One." Fuck I didn't want to die by the hands of a wolf.

"Two." Fuck Potter's hand was warm in mine. The wolf lurked forward at a slowly maddening pace, its muzzle curling over it's canines, head lowering in a predatory arc. Its huge head still massive against its equally massive body. I wasn't ready to die-

"Three!" My body was jerked from the side, my feet stumbling under me as I tried to right myself, Harry's feet carrying him swiftly as my body stumbled behind. Moments passed, a shattering bark echoing behind us as I stumbled quickly, my feet catching, but Harry's tugging dragged me upright. Faster and faster we ran, dodging trees and jumping over logs, the ominous crunching of branches behind us signaling that the bear-like wolf was still in pursuit. My legs burned as we jumped over a large tree trunk, my lungs ached for air. Half a mile we ran, a little bit more- A little more-

_Dong. Dong. Dong._

Fuck!

"A-Almost- There-" Harry panted, his hand slipping with sweat away from mine. Don't you bloody fucking let go! I gripped back tightly, my clothes tugging against my body with our jerking movements.

_Dong. Dong. Dong._

The wooden turrets of the gate came into view, the wolf's teeth snapping at our heels.

_Fuck! _My blonde hair whipped in my eyes, my heart pounding like the thundering of a storm as the gate to our village loomed closer and closer. My arm was tugged harder, my head pounding, heart racing; something brushed my foot.

"Potter!"

"I know!" His head turned back for just a moment. The wolf was right on our heels, its overly-large teeth snapping at our shoes. Don't lunge. Don't jump.

_Dong. Dong- _We know!

The wooden gate, our saviour, loomed closer, its looming, wooden doors creaking open as the villagers atop its pillars saw our small, helpless figures sprinting for our bloody magical lives. Closer and closer, harder our feet pounding, its teeth grazed my shoe, its barks and growls sound like human screams, its stomping over its huge paws loud, cracking like the boom of an explosion behind us. One hundred feet. Go. Go. My grip began to slip away from Harry's, the wolf's claw caught my pants- I was tugged forward, the fabric ripping away. "Malfoy!"

Fifty feet. I stumbled. I was jerked up painfully, my shoulder popping.

Twenty five feet. Potter tripped over an unseen hole in the ground. I tugged him back up with a burning in my arm.

Ten feet. The gates began to close, the insistent warning, the dongs continued.

As the overly large animal took a pause, its legs bending down, and leaped, ready to sink its canines into whatever available part of either of us it reached- We jumped. Potter leaped off the ground, tugging me forward, my shoulder felt like a burning knife had sliced through it was we fell behind the dark, wooden gate, it closing dull behind us.

Thud.

_Thud._

The only sound was our haggard breath and the growls, the tearing reality of the booming barks from behind the door, the pounding of ours hearts. Fuck. And the searing pain in my shoulder.

"M-Malfoy," a voice panted harshly, the voice sounding as if it were in dire need of oxygen.

"P-Potter." I replied, my own heart racing painfully in my chest, my own body aching against the stone cold ground of trampled land below my body. My shoulder throbbed.

"Bloody..." There was a pause, a painful hiss, and Potter's head came into my view. "Are you ok?"

I snorted in pained, exasperated amusement. I needed air. Air. We were outside. "I-"

"Shite Malfoy, you're bleeding..."

"That doesn't matter. A-Are we..."I licked at my lips, my vision swimming with weak exhaustion. "We back in 'aggerhorn?"

Daggerhorn.

That was what Little Whinging had been renamed after the wolf communities were created. Wolf communities were what we called safe havens, places where wizards and witches could go to hide from the Muggle world and the creatures that tore through the night with bloody abandon. The Wizards that were fortunate enough to live in the Muggle world more often than not _obliviated _themselves to forget their past, their magic; they cut off all ties with us. It was simple. There was no more _Prophet, _or _Quibbler,_ no more W_itch Weekly_, or Rita Skeeter. (Thank Merlin for that.) The Wizarding World, Wizarding London itself had simply... _vanished._ And all that was left were _Daggerhorn_ and its neighboring village of _Daggerspine, Knifeblade, Bloodwell, Shadowed Halls _and_ Blade's Edge, Blackrock _and _Wolf Sight._ Wolf Sight was ...ironically enough named for the area that was first greeted with the bloody-thirsty sight of the wolf.

Bloodwell was a valley to the east of London where a mass murder... a genocide against all magical beings had occurred once the wolves had taken root. Daggerhorn, our village, and its sister Daggerspine were right on the outskirts of Wizarding London, Daggerhorn to the tip of the north, and Daggerspine running along the edge of the coast to the east. We were known for our blades, our silver. Not very creative, eh?

Knifeblade was named after the local swordsman who was the first murdered by his own blade in the village; a wolf had attacked his store one wolf-night and had slaughtered him by causing him to trip over his own fire and impale himself on his blade. Then, there was Shadowed Halls. Shadowed Halls was what once used to be called Hogsmeade. Shadowed by the great Halls of Hogwarts... It seemed to fit, very melancholy so.

Blackrock was a small colony located on the edge of the coast to the west. Maybe a hundred wizards and witches or so. The wolves seemed to love to play games of pushing people off the edge of the coast's cliffs. Those cliffs were stained with blood. Hence the name. And then, then there was Blade's Edge.

Blade's Edge used to be our crowning jewel, our epicenter. Diagon Alley. It was our proverbial downfall, the edge to the blade that ended it all. The area where the first wolf was born, was seen... had killed. Had infested. Had spawned, grew, demeaned... Who knew anymore... We were all hiding. All of us.

"Malfoy! Malfoy!" A sharp, jaw-clenching pain shot through my body like a fire-hot spark, a hand shaking my torn shoulder.

"Fuck, Potter! Shoulder!" The hand instantly left.

"Shite. Sorry. Think I tugged you harder than I thought." My eyes slowly slid open, the last dregs of lingering thoughts leaving me with a simple glance into worried, caring green eyes. "S'ok."

"You ok?" I lifted my other arm out from under my body with a groan. My muscles ached, my lungs felt ragged and torn for air and my head swam as if filled to the brim with molten lead.

"I've been better," I muttered as I used my semi-good arm to push myself up and into a relatively normal, sane position, not sprawled across the infested dirt ground like some common filth.

"Shite, you're bleeding-" Harry's hair was whipped around and disheveled, his cheeks flushed with exertion, chest glistening with sweat as his hands came up to fumble around as if to find something to summon, to clean my haggard appearance. I lifted a hand with a chuckle, my vision glazing over with slowing looming-in exhaustion. "Potter. S'ok."

"No Malfoy, it's not! You can barely string two sentences together, let alone keep yourself awak-"

"I'm fine. Shut your bloody trap."

The voices around us were quickly raising, people rushing forward to see what the cause of the alarm was.

"Harry?_ Harry! _Dear Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley's voice shot out from the looming crowds, people hollering in protest at being shoved aside, a bustling women bursting from the crowd.

"Harry! Oh Harry, dear! Are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley shot forward, hideous clothing, red hair and all. Kneeling down, knees already caked with dirt from working, she drew Harry into her purple, plaid covered arms, tears trembling down her cheeks.

The brunette gave a small sigh, lifting a hand to pat her back calmly. "Mrs. Weasley... Molly, it's alright." His tanned, nimble-fingered hand moved soothingly over Molly's shoulder as my vision swam with dull shades of dirt matted clothes, tanned and pale skin, hair colours of every shade and style- We were being swarmed with questions, people only seeming to care about my life in light of the situation. I sat up fully, my legs aching against the strain as people bustled around us. Healers ran through the large crowd of whispering witches and wizards, crups running around and yipping at their feet with all the hectic commotion.

"M-Malfoy!"

"Harry! Oh Harry!"

"Bloody hell Harry! What were you doing so far out on a wolf night?" Voices hollered, questioning statements and demanding answers. I gave a small, annoyed sigh as the towering, fumbling figures around me slowly started dissipating, the clouding, nauseating senses of claustrophobia slowly leaking away, leaving my body with only a throbbing pain in my right shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy! Merlin!" A Healer rushed forward. Grey haired and bespectacled eyes, Healer Woodrow was knowledgeable for her age, her wisdom helping others seek comfort in the haunting nights of a howling moon and helping people treats their wounds and reaffirm their thoughts that things would get better. She was a guiding light, and she was one of the only people I could count on one hand that I trusted.

"Mr. Malfoy." She spoke to me calmly, addressing me with a stern gaze as if I was a petulant little child that stole too many cookies from the cookie jar before dinner. Kneeling down, her plain grey dress stretched against her legs as they dug into the dirt, slipping her wand out from inside her sleeve.

"Can you lie on your back please? Sitting up will put too much strain on your back, I can see the painful pull from here.." She rested a hand against my other shoulder, gently lowering me back to the ground, my spine creaking, aching in painful protest to the movement. "See.. You silly child."

I glanced up towards the sky, my silver eyes taking in the dull grey clouds slowly drifting through the sky, without a care in the world, the blue sky overhead a seeming never-ending bowl of blue...

"Draco? Mr. Malfoy? How is the pain?"

I blinked myself back to reality. "W..Wha?"

"The pain? In your shoulder?" Healer Woodrow's wand poked at my right shoulder again, my hands folded up on my chest to elevate the strain. I hissed, expecting to feel an excruciating sense of limb tearing from limb, but all I felt was the pleasant tingle of something keen to light fingertips dancing across my shoulder and around my muscles. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"I... I'm fine, Healer Woodrow. Just a tear." I cradled against my chest as I pulled myself up again with a large inhale of air. It was easier to breath, I was sure.

"Good. And that wasn't just some tear Mr. Malfoy," she sounded as if I had offended her with my blunt assessment of my shoulder. "That was a very violent rip of the muscle that linked your shoulder to the rest of your torso. You must of felt like you were on fire in that general area, did you not?" She 'tsk'ed at me, waving the tip of her wand in my face as if scolding a child for playing a prank.

"I..." A blush of embarrassment warmed my cheeks. "I didn't really feel it."

"You didn't?"

Another tsk, a worried expression and her wand was waving around my arm, the glow of her wand a bright yellow against the dull red hue of my shirt. Red... I've seen so much red the last few years of my life, that this shirt was being burned the moment I could pull it off without straining myself more than I already had.

"Malfoy?" Shite. I forgot about the fact that Potter was in near the same situation as me. A Healer- What was it? Hamilton? Was surveying over Harry with a constant 'tsk' on his lips and a calculating gaze in his cold, brown eyes.

"You seemed to have sprained your ankle, Mr. Potter," his cockney drawl a quiet tone from the hustle and bustle of the villagers. "Nothin' I can do for you I'm 'fraid." Hamilton sat back on his haunches, "we have no supplies for the potions I'd need to make you-"

"It's fine, really." That idiot, Potter was already trying to stand.

"No- Mr. Potter, you have to understand-"

"Draco? Are you all done here?" I hadn't noticed but Healer Woodrow had started wrapping up a few of my cuts and scrapes that littered my ankles, knees and arms...

"One moment, Mr. Potter, and he will be." Healer Woodrow poked at my body for a few more moments with the tip of her wand, a dark, rich mahogany type of wood... Our wands were probably the most beautiful things any of us owned at the moment. A sigh escaped my lips as her wand roamed over my chest, the tip of her wand going a dark blue, the magic expelled tingling against my skin through the fabric of my very thin shirt.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy," she pulled back with a sigh, soft, wrinkled eyes glancing at me with a monetary voice... Woodrow viewed anyone around the age of twenty-five or so and haunted by the war to be her child. "You need to stay off that arm for the next week or so. I have a feeling you heard Healer Hamilton, you little snake, and you know that he has no potions at the moment to immediately care for you."

I nodded, resting a hand against her thin, bony shoulder as Woodrow slowly helped me sit up, watching me like a hawk for any twinge of pain.

A figure loomed over me, my eyes shooting up to meet a hazed, tired emerald gaze.

"Ready to go?" Potter spoke quietly as Woodrow shifted away.

I shifted as well, moving away from the Healer who was muttering asinine directions to herself as Potter held out a hand towards me. ...Stupid Gryffindor. "Other hand? Do you mind Potter? I'd rather _not_ tear my already sore shoulder."

The Gryffindor blushed in indignation, switching hands to hold it in front of my face, eyes glancing anywhere but at my own. "Sorry 'bout that..." My hand linked with his own, and I ignored the shock of magic that jolted through my chest.

"Sorry about what, Potter?" I was pulled up gently, slowly, the movements causing me to pause precariously. Potter was... gentle as he set me on my feet.

"About... Well, your arm. I..."A tanned hand found its way to the hair at the nap of Harry's neck, and I tilted my head, watching the movements carefully, analyzing. Why was Potter suddenly, continually, nervous around me? Was it just me? I'd have to ask tonight, I mused as we decided to walk back to his home since it was closer and we both felt absolutely wretched..

_**-8-8-**_

_**Been written for a while! But I've been so damn **_busy.

_**No joke.**_

_**I've been at my school. Everyday. From 6 AM to 10:30 PM. I'm running two plays at once. Ugh.**_

_**Well, one is done, but the next one is on its final week of rehearsals. So. Exhausted.  
>And my anime convention is this week! And I have SO much left to do.<strong>_

Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review?  
><em>They let me know you care.<em>

_**-**_**Becom.**


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